Chapter Ten

Andrew was unceremoniously dumped onto the cool, slightly damp ground, and when he looked about, despite the darkness, he immediately recognized the area as the place in Hyde Park where he’d been attacked just over a week ago.

When he’d been assailed on the outside of the Duke of Broadmoor’s home, his first concern was for Annabelle, for as he’d fought with his opponent, she’d done the same with another one. Then she’d been rendered unconscious and the rage that had welled within him had been the most acute he’d ever felt. But as he’d tried to break away to help her, he’d been knocked out with a sharp, accurate jab to the cheek where the jawbones connected.

Now, a dull ache bothered him in that area as well as pain in various other parts of his body that had received blows or kicks. “Where is Annabelle?” If something dire happened to her while he was with her, he would never forgive himself.

His attacker, dressed completely in black, grunted. As of yet, there was no one else around. “Get to your feet and go down the footpath, not the riding trail.” The tone was vaguely familiar, but from where?

Oh, he’d stand, all right, but he had no intention of following orders from a thug. “What the hell do you want?” he asked while staggering to his feet. Since the man declined to answer, he charged at the other man, caught him in the chest with a shoulder, and once they both were thrown to the ground, Andrew threw a punch that connected solidly with the man’s nose. Blood immediately gushed from the broken appendage. “Where the devil is Annabelle?”

“I’m not paid to answer questions.” The man spat blood from his mouth as he struggled for dominance. Then, as if clawing its way from a morass of emptiness, a memory came forth. This was the same man who’d attacked him that night in Hyde Park when he’d been left for dead!

“And I’m not someone thugs like you should trifle with. You were the one who took away my memories, now why I am here once more?” The attacker kept silent, which only stoked Andrew’s growing anger. Knowing he could find out more information on his own, Andrew delivered another quick jab, and this time when his fist found purchase at the man’s temple, the attacker went down and didn’t come back up. “I’ll be damned if anyone takes advantage of me again.”

With hot rage filling his chest and righteous indignation burning in his throat, Andrew loped down the path as he’d been instructed. The cool air kept his mind clear, for he planned to thoroughly pummel whoever took him and Annabelle captive. As he followed the well-worn foot path that deviated from the bridle trail and jogged south, cutting through the less populated areas of Hyde Park. A nearby stream gurgled and blended with the nighttime sounds in the undergrowth and trees, and closer to the water supply, a thin mist rose from the lower lying places.

Eventually, the narrow path winded around and leveled off into a clearing of sorts with the stream ten feet ahead and a worn wooden footbridge going over the ever-moving water where the path continued. At the other side of the bridge, lying in a heap on the cold ground was Annabelle. The fabric of her gorgeous saffron-colored gown was rumpled and rucked up about her stocking-clad legs with no consideration to decorum or privacy.

“Annabelle!” As he ran toward the bridge, the second he put a first foot upon it, a man in black stepped out from a collection of evergreen trees to stand guard over her form while another man—the same one who’d asked her to dance earlier in the evening, skirted around Annabelle and her keeper. He moved in Andrew’s direction. “What the devil is the meaning of this?”

“Come no further, Hazelton, unless you wish for your pretty little plaything to have a knife plunged straight through her heart.” Lord Churchfield held up a gloved hand. “You and I have unfinished business.”

“I cannot fathom why.” Truly, except for the little niggle in his brain, he had no recollection of this man.

“Ah, the mystery earl, the man with no memories of his previous life.” Churchfield came a few steps closer until he stood in the middle of the footbridge. An errant breeze toyed with the panels of his dark gray greatcoat and ruffled his hair beneath the beaver felt hat. “I’m the man who couldn’t pay at the gaming tables a week ago, the man from whom you took the necklace that currently graces Miss Harding’s delicate neck.”

The aggravation in Andrew’s chest reached the next level. “You leave her alone. She is not part of this.” A few glimpses of Annabelle showed her pale face that already had the shadows of bruising, but then her guard moved in front of her and blocked her from his view. “If any further harm comes to her, there will be hell to pay, and I will start with you.”

“Bragging words from the man who can’t recall who he is.” Churchfield shrugged. “I want the necklace.”

“It doesn’t belong to you; never did.” His heart gave a great thump when a slight sound came from Annabelle, which meant she was slowly coming back to consciousness.

The other man sighed as if his time was wasted simply by being there. “Do you want to know why I chose Hyde Park as the setting to finish this job?”

That was… odd. Andrew frowned. “Because you’re a prick with a desperate need for power?” He crossed his arms at his chest, refusing to let this man intimidate him.

“Your attempt at humor is beneath us both and has no place in the proceedings.” Clearly, the other man wasn’t impressed. “One of my contemporaries was the Duke of Winthrop. I learned much from him before his unfortunate demise.”

“That man was the worst sort of scourge on this earth. He was responsible for torture, oppression, attempted murder, and many other crimes while he lived.” How the deuce did he know that? As he thought about the duke, memories came swirling fuzzily into his mind, for he had tangled with the duke more than a few times. Perhaps some men were so evil not even amnesia could keep them hidden.

“It’s much a matter of opinion, but then, men like you, who bend the rules to suit you wouldn’t understand.” Churchfield glanced backward at Annabelle as she stirred on the ground then he looked at Andrew once more. “Regardless, Winthrop knew everyone’s secrets as well as their weaknesses. Mine has always been beautiful things I couldn’t afford, things I was cheated out of due to my father’s fondness for high wagers, cheap women, and mid-range brandy.”

What difference did that make? “Why am I here?”

Churchfield’s grin was a mockery in the shifting shadows as clouds moved over the moon. “Perhaps I like the symmetry of it and wish to finish the job of doing away with you in the same place where you should have died to begin with.”

This was ridiculous. “If you want the damned necklace, why don’t you just take it? As long as you leave Miss Harding alone, I care not.” What was a handful of gems compared to the life of the woman he suspected he loved beyond all reason and explanation?

“It isn’t that easy.” The other man peered into the nighttime sky and frowned, as if even the heavens had managed to disappoint him. “Perhaps I want to teach you and the rest of the damned rogues that you don’t rule London’s jewelry world.” When he rested his gaze back on Andrew, abject hate glittered in those dark depths. “There are those of us whom you’ve either stolen from in the past or prevented sales recently, took what we wanted before we knew what was happening.”

Though he didn’t remember stealing anything at all let alone jewelry, that didn’t mean he didn’t, for he’d been reminded by Annabelle’s brother being a jewelry thief was requisite in order to be a member of the Rogue’s Arcade. “You’re mad. That necklace was my mother’s, given to her by my father on their wedding day.”

“So you assume.” Churchfield came closer another step. “However, your father bought it out from under my father, who’d brought those raw opals back for the Regent as a way to curry favor. Unfortunately, the Regent didn’t like that particular gemstone, so my father sold them to a jeweler, who shaped and polished them.” He blew out a breath as if he were bored and had told this story too many times. “The gems were then assembled into the Falling Moon and Stars piece, but your father offered the jeweler much more coin that the man couldn’t possibly refuse. He sold the necklace to the earl, and my father was left with nothing.” Bitter vitriol fairly dripped from the words.

“Then that was a matter between our fathers. I have nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong. I demand satisfaction, and because of that, I will beat you bloody and leave your lady love here in the park.” His laughter raised the hairs on Andrew’s nape, for it was quite an unhinged sound. “If she survives the night with more than her dignity intact, you can consider yourself fortunate, but this area of the park is not known for being safe after dark.”

The hold on his temper snapped. “You can try, but first you’ll need to come through me, you blackguard, and I don’t intend to lose this fight.” With a growl, he charged onto the footbridge, and his fist connected solidly with Churchfield’s jaw enough that it sent the other man reeling backward a few steps.

“You should have left well enough alone, Hazelton.” Churchfield sprang forward, grabbed onto Andrew’s cravat, and then yanked him around so he could no longer see Annabelle. With a push that sent the earl stumbling, he advanced. “Do you truly think I can’t best you—with fists or anything else?” Apparently led by his ego, the other man delivered a hard punch to Andrew’s midsection. Pain exploded in his stomach. “You are nothing special, and a man with no memories is merely someone else’s pawn waiting to happen.”

“I remember enough.” With a powerful uppercut that landed on the other side of Churchfield’s jaw, his grin was slight as the other man retreated.

“Then you can go to your grave knowing I was the one who ended your life, and you can wonder what became of your whore.” He threw another punch, but since Andrew darted away, the blow clipped his shoulder. “Ah, did you think I didn’t know about your scandal in the carriage?”

Andrew grunted. He came back with a strong uppercut that smashed into Churchfield’s cheek. “How?”

Both pugilists broke apart in order to circle one another.

“I pay your driver better.” His laughter grated across Andrew’s nerves. “When the master can’t remember who is on his staff and who is not, it makes spying easy for people like me.”

“Bastard!” Andrew flew at his opponent. He threw a punch, but Churchfield ducked and skittered away thanks to fancy footwork. Obviously, the man had had some training in fisticuffs. While Andrew regained his position, the other man got in a quick series of jabs to his already abused stomach. A groan escaped Andrew’s throat, and he briefly doubled over, for the pain was intense.

“Not quite. Just a man who knows exactly what the world owes him.”

Andrew surged upward. “The world—or everyone in it—owes you nothing!”

As if they had all the time in the world, they both exchanged blows and punches. The silence of the night was punctuated by grunts, groans, and the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh, but in an odd way, Andrew craved that symphony, for he found both comfort and encouragement in that familiar scene. Churchfield struck out a fist. Pain exploded through Andrew’s face. Sticky, warm blood oozed down his face. No doubt his nose had been broken.

“Damn you.” But it wasn’t as if his nose hadn’t been broken before. For as long as he could remember, it had always been crooked, especially since he’d started training in the boxing salon. But he was nothing if not persistent. He came roaring back, a veritable storm of fury, cuffing Churchfield’s ears and then delivering a powerful blow to the man’s midsection. While his opponent stumbled, Andrew planted the sole of his boot into Churchfield’s chest and shoved.

The other man faltered. He retreated unsteadily on his feet, and when his bootheel caught on an uneven plank on the footbridge, he tripped, landing hard on his arse. “This proves nothing, Hazelton!” There was no time to rest, for with a cry of pure rage, Churchfield surged upward, easily finding his footing. He came at Andrew, pummeling with his fists as if one possessed.

“Andrew!” Annabelle’s cry of warning spurred Andrew into renewed strength. He defended his ground, not only dodging and deflecting most of the other man’s rage but also giving as good as he got. An uppercut to Churchfield’s chin sent the man reeling back. His side crashed into the railing of the footbridge, where he paused, winded. Another lightning quick jab to the man’s midsection left him winded and gasping for breath.

“I refuse to go through the remainder of my life being threatened with no account men like you.” With the hot fury of rage in his chest, Andrew pounced once more. Striking out with a powerful punch that caught Churchfield in the temple and left his opponent wilting against the railing, he grunted. “And by the by, every man in the Rogue’s Arcade steals only what was once stolen and then returns it to the rightful owners or sells those pieces. In those cases, the coin goes to help the less fortunate. It’s a concept men like you simply will never understand, since all you care about is power and money.” One final punch to Churchfield’s nose sent the man tumbling over the railing into the shallow stream below. With a last passing glance at the spot where the other man lay sprawled face down, Andrew spit the blood from his mouth. He didn’t give a damn if the man drowned in that six inches of water or suffered hyperthermia.

It was in fate’s hands now. No one kidnapped him or Annabelle then planned to leave them both for dead over the shaky provenance of a damned necklace.

Wiping his face with the sleeve of his tailcoat, Andrew ignored the pain that lit up his whole body, for a scream was ripped from Annabelle’s throat and reminded him there was still danger about. His steps echoed hollowly on the bridge as he crossed it and ran toward the place where he’d last seen her.

Upon arrival, he was shocked to not only see Annabelle on her feet, but also, she’d come into possession of a rather large tree branch. Had she pulled it down or merely found it? There was no way of knowing, but she currently brandished it like a sword and was beating her guard about the knees and chest as if swatting at a rodent in a kitchen.

“Let up, bitch!” The man in black couldn’t keep up with a defense against her apparent annoyance, for she continued to whack the man’s person without prejudice. Yet somehow, he found an opening and grabbed Annabelle’s hair. With a mighty yank, he dragged her to him. “Enough!”

“Leave her alone!” Andrew bounded over to them as they tussled, but that spooked her attacker enough for him to release her.

“Damned titled nobs.” He grappled for the necklace, took it in hand, and then wrenched it from her neck. “I’ll sell the fucking piece myself.” Just as Andrew reached out to grab him, the man turned tail and ran from the scene. Obviously, he didn’t care about his employer who still lay in the stream.

He assumed, but Andrew had no more energy to give over to the man, for the whole of his focus was on Annabelle. Breathing heavily, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Sweeting—”

“No!” She swung about with a cry and swung the branch at him, which thudded against his right side.

“Oomph!” Damn, that hurt.

“Oh, dear. Andrew!” Her eyes widened with surprise then mortification. Instantly, she dropped the branch seconds before she threw herself into his arms. “I thought you were another attacker.”

“Understandable.” Dear God, she felt so good, all soft and warm as he held her close, partially to assure himself that she was well. He buried his aching nose into the loose tresses of her hair. The fragrance of flowers and sweat seeped into his nostrils. “Churchfield is, I hope, lying unconscious in the stream. The man who kidnapped me is knocked out at the top of the path where I assume we were let out from a carriage.”

“I don’t care as long as you are unharmed.” She peppered his face with feather-weighted kisses, without regard to the blood and grime that clung to his skin. “I was so frightened, waking up and seeing you fighting that horrible man.”

“Not any more than I was not knowing if you were dead or alive.” He kissed her forehead and then pulled away, being sure to take possession of her hand. “Come. Let us head up the path to where all of this began.”

“Why?” But she clung to him and that gave him the strength needed to proceed up the sloping ground.

“There is no better place to give you this speech than where I first met you, where you changed my life with a simple act of nurturing and courage, where you put me onto your horse and carried me into your life.”

Without her, he was truly nothing... …no one, but when Annabelle was with him, it didn’t matter. He had the capacity to be anyone he chose. There was a certain freedom in that, and he wouldn’t waste the second chance.

By the time they reached that spot at the top of the hill where the footpath converged with the riding trail, exhaustion had begun to set in, but he wouldn’t rest this night until he’d won her hand as well as her heart. “Stop.” He put his hands on her shoulders, adjusted where she stood, looked about, adjusted her again, realized his gloves were grimy with dirt and blood, then sighed. “Right here.” Dear God, she was a vision in her slightly torn and dirty saffron-colored gown with her caramel hair flowing about her shoulders. After removing his gloves, he tossed them away. “This is the very spot.”

She frowned. “This was where I first found you.”

“Exactly.” Did she not consider that moment as monumental as he? While slight panic rose in his chest, Andrew framed her face in his hands and peered into her eyes. “This is the very place where my life changed, and all because I met you. Or rather, you saved me. Literally, and in every other sense of the word.”

“I couldn’t just leave you here,” she whispered as tears welled in her eyes.

“Of course not. You are an exceptional woman, sweeting. A singular sensation amidst a sea of the same sort of women all thinking the same sort of things.” Buggar, he was in danger of cocking this up.

“Andrew?”

“Hmm?”

“Just speak from the heart.” She laid a palm on his chest. The dear woman had lost one of her gloves. “That’s the best way to make your point.”

“Right.” Slowly, he lowered his hands, but then it didn’t feel right to not touch her so he held her in a loose embrace so he could still look into her upturned face. “I don’t know how to explain it. I might not have all my memories and I might not know who I was before, but perhaps that doesn’t matter.”

“Why?”

He breathed in deeply and let the breath out in a shuddering sigh. “Because when I met you, from that very moment I became a new man. I had the opportunity to do everything over again, in a new way presumably, to be a better man, do a better job in the hopes that…”

“Yes?” A look of expectation filled her face.

How much did he adore her already? “There is nothing for it. I’m falling in love with you, but I know it’s only been a week, and that isn’t enough time to even know such a thing, but—”

“Hush, my lord.” She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, regardless of the mess his face surely was. “I believe that I’m falling in love with you too, and to be honest, love doesn’t follow a timeline, doesn’t depend on how long a person knows another, doesn’t care about society’s rules or ages, or any of that. Love just is.”

“It is, quite.” Yes, he was a nodcock, but somehow, when she was there, he didn’t feel it was a bad thing. “That being said, I would adore it above all things if you would consent to be my wife, my countess.”

“Oh!” Worry clouded her eyes, barely seen in the darkness. “I might disappoint you, for I have a healthy dislike of the ton and the society we both live in as well as the privileges we enjoy.” The delicate tendons in her throat constricted with a hard swallow. “But if you can look past that, ignore my other failings, understand that I enjoy being scandalous far more than being proper…” A few of the tears fell to her cheeks. “I would be delighted to marry you.”

He was floating, falling, sinking, drowning from her words, but he had one last thing to say to her. “Annabelle, my love.” Again, he framed her head in his hands. “You are perfect for me. I never wished for proper, and we will work through any other challenges together. There is some comfort in knowing I’m going into the unknown with you instead of alone this time.”

It made all the difference.

“I understand completely how you feel, and I wouldn’t wish to go forward without you.”

With a soft cry of victory, Andrew pulled her fully into his arms and brought his mouth crashing down on hers. He claimed her lips over and over again, wished to leave no doubt in her mind that he would choose her every time.

“From the looks of things, we arrived far too late to be of help, especially after seeing a goon out cold near the arch.”

Andrew ended the embrace at the sound of Winteringham’s voice. As he peered through the dark and shadows, the forms of the viscount and Timelbury approached their location. Illumination from the lanterns they each carried bounced about the area. “How did you even know we were here?”

It was Annabelle’s brother who answered. “I noticed you both were missing from the ball. Once I asked around to the other rogues in attendance, they agreed they hadn’t seen you for a bit. Then, one of the servants offered up the information that they’d seen a scuffle on the street and that they saw someone matching Annabelle’s description being carried into a carriage.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said as she broke out of Andrew’s arms to hug her brother. As she quickly told him about what happened, he glanced at the viscount.

“Churchfield was behind everything.” He relayed the drama surrounding the necklace. “I knocked him out. He landed in the stream just under the footbridge.”

“Understood. Timelbury and I will check it out.” He motioned to Cornelius. “We need to make certain the threat is neutralized.”

“Right.” Cornelius looked at his sister. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She nodded, but once the other men left the immediate area, she sighed and came back into Andrew’s arms. “I’m sorry.”

“What the devil for?”

“That I lost the necklace. If I hadn’t worn it—”

“Stop.” He put a hand beneath her chin and lifted it until their gazes connected. “You are infinitely more valuable than a necklace, but I can always remember mama wearing it.” He shrugged with a wry grin. “Some memories are sneaking back while others are simply lost, and while that’s marvelous, I have you, which makes me the happiest of men.”

With a soft cry, she nestled into his form and slipped her arms about his middle. “We are going to have such fun.”

“We will, and I cannot wait to see what we can do together.” Then, because he could, Andrew took her into his arms again and kissed her quite thoroughly. By the time he pulled away, his friends had returned. “What of Churchfield’s status?”

The viscount shrugged. “He wasn’t there, which means you’ll have to watch your back.”

“But you won’t be alone,” Timelbury added with a grin as he bounced his gaze between them, amusement clear in his expression as he held the lantern aloft. “The rogues don’t leave anyone behind.” He winked. “And what sort of soon-to-be brother-in-law would I be if I left you alone with that potential problem?”

Annabelle gasped. “You knew?”

“What did you think Hazelton and I discussed at the club last night?” He snickered. “Let us return to the ball, hmm? They should be sitting down to dinner soon.”

“Oh, and by the by, Broadmoor and his duchess made an announcement shortly before we realized you were missing,” Winteringham said as they made their way back toward the arch. “They are apparently expecting their first child, due sometime in mid-May next year.”

“How lovely,” Annabelle said as she touched Andrew’s hand.

“Indeed. I’ll be sure to wish him well.” He closed his fingers about hers and couldn’t help his own grin. “It seems everyone is moving forward.”

“As it should be,” she said softly. “Otherwise, you’ll stay in the same place, and that is not where the adventure and challenge lie.”

This new life was a bit intimidating and allegedly different from his old one, but he heartily looked forward to filling it with new memories.

And love.